Come Cryin' To Me
by ThisDivaLovesMattHardy
Summary: Matt Hardy's out on injury, and his girlfriend, Heather, is being harassed by WWE fans, as a result of being one of the biggest heel divas. What will she do when it gets to be too much? What will Jeff Hardy's role be in this whole situation?


_**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing affiliated with Jeff Hardy, John Cena, Matt Hardy, or anything else related to World Wrestling Entertainment. I also do not own the rights to the song "Come Cryin' To Me", made famous by country music legends Lonestar. The only things that are of my creation are the events in the story and the characters Ivy, Taylor and Heather.**_

**xx Come Cryin' To Me xx**

**I can see it in your eyes**

**You're living a troubled life**

**And you've been hurting more and more these days**

**You don't have to hide it**

**Don't even have to fight it**

**Baby all you have to do is just turn and walk away**

The tall, athletic brunette sitting in the back of the yellow cab that was crawling through traffic the Hyatt Regency hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin groaned lightly to herself and rolled her eyes as the car rolled up to the door after what seemed like forever. The short drive from the airport to the hotel took longer than Heather ever would have expected, especially at this time of night - well after one in the morning. Red eye flights... damn those company cutbacks. Heather got out, took her bags from the trunk of the cab, then paid her fare before turning and lugging the rolling baggage behind her through the automatic doors. The exhausted, traveled-out United States Champion shuffled up to the check-in desk and gave them her name. After a short conversation with the older woman working at the desk, she turned to head for the elevators

That was when she saw them, ready and waiting. They were everywhere. They were relentless. They were the fans of the WWE Universe. What the hell were they doing here at this hour anyway? Not like she hadn't expected it, but honestly! Especially the five little kids, three girls and two boys, standing with their parents, each clutching a Sharpie permanent marker and one of her action figures, still in the packaging. Others, older fans, were holding trading cards, or programs, or magazines. The one commonality was that they all had permanent markers and digital cameras. After a discrete look around, Heather realized that through them was her only way upstairs. On all other sides she was surrounded by either hospitality desks or seating areas for guests, many of which were covered with bags and backpacks, more likely than not stuffed to the breaking point with more wrestling merchandise. She rolled her luggage behind her and walked over to the mass of people, making sure to reach the small children first. She knelt down in front of them, a smile on her face. "Hey guys. Do you want me to sign those for you?" The kids, all shy, smiled and nodded. Heather took each figure from them in turn and signed them before handing them back to them. Then she took five individual and two group pictures with them. After the pictures were done, Heather turned to the parents, a disappointed frown on her face. "Do me a favor and get these kids home to bed? They shouldn't be up this late at their age."

"Of course, we were just leaving," the mother said, nodding. "It's just that you're all three girls' favorite, and they really wanted to meet you. Since the boys met their favorites, John Cena and Rey Mysterio..."

Heather nodded understandingly, even though an undetectable tingle of annoyance ran through her at the mention of that name. "Of course. But now, they can go home, yes?" What was wrong with parents these days? Her parents would never have let her stay up this late, just to sit in a hotel lobby and try to meet a famous wrestler - they would have told her she was crazy! After the family left, she spent at least fourty-five more minutes signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans. After the last pair of fans walked away after thanking her - which was a rare occurrence in itself - Heather took the handle of her baggage roller and continued walking toward the elevators, her heeled shoes clicking on the tile floor. The company dress code, even while traveling - that was another thing that could kiss her ass too. (What was wrong with athletes traveling in snap-ups and sweatshirts? Highschool and college teams did it all the time!)

Just as she was walking down the hall, another smaller group of fans approached her in front of the elevator. There were three girls in the group, one of them holding a stack of programs, one of them a high-end digital camera. The other had a replica WWE Championship draped over her shoulder. All three of them had John Cena t-shirts on, and one of them had a HLR Academy hat on, twisted just slightly to the side. If there were any few people in the WWE that Heather absolutely hated, John Cena was definitely one of them. Heather just walked, acting as if they weren't even there, looking past them. Once the group had passed her, the girl at the front, the one with the championship belt, spoke. "Now there's a fraud of a Diva if I've ever seen one..." As if on cue, the other two laughed. Out of instinct, Heather stopped and turned slightly, looking at the girls. They had stopped, of course, and were looking with an aire of superiority. Heather just rolled her eyes, and turned on the spot, turning her back on them, to face the elevator doors and wait for one of them to open. The girls walked up behind her, and the leader tapped her on the shoulder. With another roll of her eyes, Heather slowly turned around, the irritation and sparks of what could easily turn into anger flying in her eyes as she looked at the group.

"What's up, Heather?" the girl asked. "Off to sleep again, dream of winning that women's championship? 'Cause, let's be honest," the lead girl laughed, "You and I both... hell, all four of us know that it will never happen!"

"Yeah, you're nothing!" the girl with the hat jeered.

"You can't wrestle to save your life, and it's obvious your fat ugly ass can't find a good guy, either. The only guy you can get is a drug addict's enabler of a brother," the third chimed in. Oooh, now that was low.

That was it. Something was moments away from snapping inside Heather. She stepped up toe to toe with the lead girl - she was four inches taller, so she was more like looking down at her. "Who the hell do you think you are, talkin' shit to me? Huh? Who do you think you are?!" Wow, think Randy was rubbing off on her much? She took another step forward, and the girl moved backward, even the most miniscule amount. "I could kick your ass any day, any time, anywhere... you and your two lackies!"

A smartass grin spread across the girl's face, and she crossed her arms in front of her body as the two other girls stepped up from behind her to stand on either side. "Hit me. I dare you."

Without even thinking, Heather drew back her fist. She was going to pummel these girls to pieces. But as it would turn out, she wouldn't get the chance. Just as she was about to swing her fist forward, Heather felt a hand close around her wrist. "Don't do it," a voice said. "Just walk away. And as far as you three go... get the hell out of here." As the three Cena fans walked away - after a series of dirty looks exchanged with her - Heather turned back to her bags and was surprised to see Jeff Hardy standing there.

"What're you playing at?"

Jeff looked directly at her. "I know your temper Heather. You've got a temper just like my brother - uncontrollable. That's why you two go so well together," he laughed.

"Again... what're you playing at? Those girls would have had it coming!" She was annoyed that he had stopped her from beating the living hell out of those three.

Jeff just shook his head. "You know better than that. Come on, now. It's one in the morning."

"Then what are YOU doing up?" Heather said, hoisting her second duffel bag up onto her shoulder.

"Food," Jeff grinned. "No, not for me. For Ives. She's having a late night hunger attack. Damn room service is closed already. I'll give you my key, you can go hang with her if you want."

"Nah, I'm good," Heather said as the door opened to the elevator. "I have a ten a.m. appearance to make it to. I'll talk to you guys later." After bidding goodbye to Jeff, Heather took the elevator up to the eleventh floor, found her room, and went inside. She did her best to push what had happened with those girls downstairs out of her mind. It wasn't the first time that something like that had happened, and she was sure it would not be the last. Within an hour she had showered, checked her e-mail, set her alarm and schedule for the next day, and gone to bed.

**When you're tired of it all**

**And tears need to fall**

**Your back's to the wall**

**Come cryin' to me**

**You don't have to be strong**

**You don't have to hold on**

**You've been there too long**

**Come cryin' to me**

**I'll leave the living room light**

**Burning all night**

**No don't even pack**

**Don't even look back**

**Baby come cryin' to me**

Four nights later, at a live event at Southern Illinois University, Taylor had a Women's Championship title defense against Ashley Massaro. During the match, about ten minutes in, Heather was supposed to go out to the ring and interrupt, while Taylor kept the ref busy by arguing a call. It was all set, and when she saw Taylor get Ashley backed into the corner, Heather gripped the chair and just waited. When the referee admonished Taylor for not obeying the five count, she turned on him and started yelling something about this match being crucial, something about him forgetting it was a women's championship match. That was Heather's part. She ran out, slid in the ring, and hit Ashley square over the head with the chair twice, leaving her lying flat on her back on the mat. Then she rolled out of the ring, tossed the chair underneath then darted back up into the entranceway. She turned around, just in time to see Taylor hit her finisher and watch the referee count to three.

As Taylor's music played and she played it up to a heavily booing crowd, Heather walked back up the entranceway and through the curtains to the "backstage" area, all the while keeping her eyes on the floor a couple of yards in front of her. As she had walked through the fans, who were much closer on nights like this than they were at a live TV event or a television taping, she had been hit with what seemed like everything but the kitchen sink. From all sides it came; popcorn, soda, alcoholic beverages, empty paper cups, crumpled up tickets - basically anything anybody could find to launch. All because she had interrupted. It was what she had to do. She couldn't let Taylor lose the championship. That would have been all bad.

As she walked through the curtains, she looked up. Everyone who had been back there saw her come through, soaking wet and covered in junk, and stopped in their tracks. She could tell nobody moved an inch during the time from when she passed through the curtain to when she disappeared into another room to change her clothes. Less than twenty-five minutes later, Heather was walking out of the back door to the venue, tossing her bag in the back seat of the Chevy Tahoe she was driving, and driving out of the parking lot back toward where they were staying. She was the first one to leave, and the show was still going on, but she didn't care. She had to get out of there. And no one had stopped her, so it obviously wasn't a problem.

The drive from the hotel to the arena prior to the show had taken her about twenty minutes or so to complete. But now, for some ungodly reason, the streets were packed with cars, moving slower than molasses in January. A quick listen to the radio told Heather why: this was the last weekend of the regular season for high school football in Illinois, and the small college fieldhouse was just down the road from where a highschool football field was located. After an hour and twenty minutes of fighting traffic detoured because of construction, Heather finally got onto the highway, and got back to the hotel ten minutes later. She parked the car and walked in the front door, bag slung over her shoulder. As usual, there were people there waiting for her. But she didn't want to deal with them, not in the least. She pulled out her sunglasses and put them over her eyes, and pulled her ever-ready-and-waiting iPod earbuds out of her pocket and put them in her ears. Then she quickly busied herself with her phone as she got nearer and nearer to them. She could hear them talking to her over the music, but ignored all attempts at conversation as she pressed her way through them. They followed her to the elevators, and she only escaped them after she'd stepped on and the doors had closed. A couple of people had joined her on the elevator, but it was obvious that they weren't wrestling fans. Well, the two may have been, but they didn't give any indication. Heather nodded farewell when they departed four floors later, then continued her ride two floors further up. She stepped off and walked to the door marked number seven thirty nine, and let herself in. She tossed her bag to the floor, and flopped down on the mattress. Sleep was beconing her, but she still had a lot of unwinding to do. Reluctantly she got up and changed into an old comfortable Green Bay Packers hoody and a pair of grey lounge pants, then flopped down again and grabbed the TV remote, ready and prepared to relax for a couple of hours.

An hour or so later, while she was snacking on a couple of granola bars she'd stuffed in her bag earlier, Heather heard her iPhone go off. Looking at it, she discovered a text from Ivy. /Hey. It's Jeff. My phone's dead, so I'm using Ivy's. Ha! What happened to you?/

Planning on playing it off, Heather texted back. /What do you mean, what happened to me?/ She was sure he'd heard about what had happened; word of events in the wrestling world spread like wildfire.

/Everybody said you'd left early, and Taylor said something about not being able to believe what 'they' did to you at the show, but she didn't say what it was. I didn't hear the full story until I heard some fans bragging up what they did downstairs. That's way rough. Definitely a 'You paid to see me!' moment. Wanna talk about it?/

See? Like wildfire. Heather didn't really want to talk about it, because she was learning to deal with it. This was her first major, major push as a heel, and it was what came with the territory, she guessed. She'd have to learn. And she would. It was a process. /Um.../

/Come on. It's not going to help to dwell on it by yourself. Ivy is asleep for a photo shoot in the morning, and I had an energy drink on the way back here, so I'll be up for a while anyway. See you in, what, ten minutes?/

/Okay. See you soon./ Heather slipped her phone into the front pocket of the hoody as she sat up and turned the TV off. She slipped on a pair of black flipflops, stashed her keycard away with her phone, and left the room, heading four doors down to the right.

**You can get beyond this**

**All those empty promises**

**They don't have to hold you down no more**

**Nothin' to explain to me**

**You don't even need a key**

**All you gotta do is knock and I'll unlock the door**

A few minutes later, Heather knocked on the door. Jeff opened it and waved at her, a grin on his face. The Enigma must have been really bored, because his hair was put in little individual braids - by color, of course - and pulled up into a ponytail sticking straight up out of the top of his head. "H-bomb!" he laughed, opening the door. "There she is!"

Heather laughed instinctively when she saw him and his hair. "Paid another visit to your barber?" she laughed, kicking off her flipflops. Rummaging through their fridge, as if she were in her own hotel room, Heather pulled out a bottle of Mountain Dew and twisted off the cap, taking a drink from it.

Jeff pulled the braids up so they were straight up, then let them fall again. "These? Nah," he laughed. "Just bored. How about you? You look... er... grungy."

"Funny, Jeffro," she said, smirking and shaking her head. "It's called comfortable, you should try it." Then she stopped, raised her nose, and sniffed the air. "Jeffrey Nero Hardy," she said slowly, turning on him. "Is that popcorn I smell?"

As she turned to face him, he was pulling a bowl from the microwave, and drizzling a carmel-colored liquid all over it. "Of course! Caramel corn, to be exact," he grinned. Then he held the bowl out to her. "Want some?!"

Heather took a couple of pieces, and ate them. "Mmm, that's good," she nodded. Then she took a drink from her bottle of soda. "Sticky, but good," she laughed.

Jeff had divided the popcorn into two bowls, and handed her one. "Here you go," he said, eating some of his after Heather had taken her bowl. "Come on," he said, motioning her to follow him as he walked out onto the balcony. He sat down on one of the chairs, and set his drink down on the table in between the chairs. Heather sat down next to him, and put her soda down as well.

"Okay, so," Jeff said, putting his feet up on the stone wall. "Down to business. What's going on with you? I know this is bothering you, the things the fans do. They don't call me the Emotional Enigma outside the ring for nothing. Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours. I am fully prepared to enter a whacked-out world never before experienced... I mean, you are dating my brother, after all," Jeff joked.

"Again... funny, Jeffro," Heather muttered.

"But no, seriously. What's going on? What bothers you the most?" When Heather remained silent, Jeff tried again. "Heather, come on. Seriously. None of us like seeing you like this. Talk to me."

Normally, when Heather was bothered by something, she liked to talk to one of her girlfriends about it. But this was different. This was business. And who better knew the wrestling business than Jeff Hardy? She had followed his career from the very beginning, both inside and outside the ring. She knew that he'd experienced many of the same things that she was going through. Just like she knew it would pass, Heather also knew that these things could weigh on a person's mind. "Don't they get it? Are they really that stupid? Do they really think that I wanted to hit Ashley with a chair? I may hate the skank, but I would never hit her... unless she hit me first. I may not be the most personable person at times, but do they really think I'm that much of a bwitch?"

"Hey, Heather, listen," Jeff said, nodding understandingly. "I know exactly what you're going through. Matt and I went through the same thing, especially the first time we were heels. But I have to tell you, the fans don't know jack. And to answer your question... yeah. They are idiots. I think it's a proven fact that ninety-five percent of the fans in the "WWE Universe" take the suspended belief thing way too far. They always forget that who we are in the ring is a different person from who we are in the real world... well, in most cases, anyway," Jeff smiled. "Let me tell you something else about the people too: they're just jealous. You gotta know, you have more than most people ever dream of posessing. You're a great wrestler, you're a fantastic person, and you have got one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. Any one of those people in the audience on any given night, or especially those girls from the Milwaukee hotel a few nights ago, would kill to be like you. Jealousy is a disease, and unfortunately, most of the WWE Universe is infected. It's our job, as the superstars slash entertainers, to let it roll off our backs. We can't let it bother us. We have to pay them no attention, just go about doing our own things. In the words of our own Hunter... I got two words - of advice - for ya: save face," he grinned. That made Heather laugh, which was what Jeff had been hoping for and trying to make her do. "Plus, Matt'll be returning soon. Then the group'll be complete again, and we'll be back to doin' what we do best: kickin' ass, and takin' names!"

A mix of a smile and a smirk crossed her face, and Heather nodded. That was one of the good things about Jeff: he, like Matt, always knew exactly what to say to say to make anybody feel better. "Thanks, Jeff," she said. "And you're right."

"Of course I am. I always am!" Jeff grinned, shaking his head up and down.

Heather laughed. "Yeah," she yawned, nodding. Then, she looked at her watch. "Oh damn. It's after midnight. I'm gonna head back and get some shuteye."

"You can crash here if you want..."

"Nah, I'm good," Heather said, standing up. After they had walked back into the suite, Heather put her empty popcorn bowl in the sink and tossed out her empty soda bottle. "Thanks for the advice, Jeff. Again."

"No problem."

"Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow. Tell Ivy I say hey, 'kay? I'll give her a call tomorrow. Later, Jeff." And with a high five to the Enigmatic superstar, Heather left the room and returned to her own room, going to sleep shortly thereafter. As usual, after a talk with Jeff, she felt resolved and settled. Sometimes that feeling vanished shortly after, but she didn't think it would this time. Matt would be returning in a couple weeks, and then everything would pretty much be back to normal.

**When you're tired of it all**

**And tears need to fall**

**Your back's to the wall**

**Come cryin' to me**

**You don't have to be strong**

**You don't have to hold on**

**You've been there too long**

**Come cryin' to me**

**I'll leave the living room light**

**Burning all night**

**No don't even pack**

**Don't even look back**

**Baby come cryin' to me**

**I'll leave the living room light**

**Burning all night**

**No don't even pack**

**Don't even look back**

**Baby come cryin' to me**

**Baby come cryin' to me**

**Baby come cryin' to me**

Two weeks after her talk with Jeff, things had been going pretty smoothly for Heather. She'd been experiencing many of the same things from the fans - the heckling, the ridiculing, the everything. But the difference was, now, she was learning to ignore it more easily. One morning, Heather was in her hotel room. It was eight thirty in the morning, and she had just finished getting ready for the day; she and the girls were going to go out shopping for the day. They weren't sure what the boys were going to do, but the three of them were going on a shopping trip. Heather was fixing her hair and doing her makeup in the mirror when she heard a keycard being put in the door and the lock sliding open. She glanced over at the door just in time to see a person backing in, dragging a rolling set of luggage with them. The person had long black hair in a ponytail, and a UNC fitted hat on backwards - that could only be one person.

"Matt!" Heather exclaimed, putting her makeup and running over to him. "Mattitude!" she smiled, hugging him as soon as he turned around. "I've missed you so much! I'm so glad to see you! Why didn't you tell me you were coming back today?!"

Matt laughed, hugging her back and then letting her go, rolling his luggage into the corner. "I wanted it to be a surprise. I missed you too... but," he said, patting his right knee, "this is all better, I'm set to go, I've been training like a madman, and I'm ready to dominate! Not to mention going back to being around you all the time," Matt winked.

"That's awesome," Heather laughed, glancing at her watch. "Oh! But now, I've got to go," she said, picking up her purse and putting it over her shoulder. "Me, Ivy and Taylor are going shopping for the day. See you later!" She pecked him on the cheek and then left to go meet up with the girls.

Matt just laughed when she left in such a flurry, and shook his head. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and called his brother. "Yo, Jeffro!" he said after Jeff answered. "What's up?"

"Not a whole lot, bro. What's happenin'?"

"Not much. What are you doing today?"

"Ivy's out with the girls for the day, so I was just gonna sit around playing video games. How about you? How's the training going?"

Matt laughed. "Complete, bro. I'm four doors down from you."

"Shut up. Really?"

"Yeah. No joke. What do you say to a video game duel, since Heather's gone too?"

"Yeah, definitely, head on over."

"Alright, see you soon." Five minutes later, Matt was knocking on Jeff's door. He had one hand behind his back, that familiar piece of leather gripped between his fingers. As soon as his brother opened the door Matt whipped out the glove and smacked his brother loudly across the face with it. "That's right, Jeffro, don't you think for one SECOND that I didn't bring my dueling glove!" he said triumphantly, a grin plastered all over his face. He pushed his way into the room and kicked off his shoes, shutting the door too.

After buying out all the food and soda in the vending machines down the hall and taking them back to the hotel room, Matt and Jeff settled down in front of the TV, video game remotes in hand. They were both planning on spending the next hours on end playing every game from SmackDown! vs Raw 2009 to Need for Speed to Madden 2009.

"Does Heather know you're back?" Jeff asked, taking a drink from one of the bottles of Mountain Dew: Game Fuel.

Matt nodded. "Yeah. I got to the room just as she was leaving. Why?"

Jeff shrugged. "Just wondering. Not like you wouldn't tell her first that you were back."

Matt knew his brother wasn't telling him the whole truth. "Jeff, what's going on?"

"While you've been gone, they've been pushing Heather heel a lot harder, to make up for one of our group being out. And you know how the people treat us, right? Well... she's been getting the brunt of it lately. And I mean, really tough. Like, people have been trying to pick fights with her. She's strong, though, you know. She's managed to handle herself pretty well. There were a few close calls, but luckily nothing went down. Then, at a house show at SIU a couple weeks ago, it got really bad. People were dumping their drinks on her and throwing popcorn and stuff at her after her run-in on Taylor's match with Ashley. She left right away, and then almost got into a fight in the lobby once she got back to the hotel."

Matt couldn't believe what he was hearing. Were the fans really being that hard on Heather? He had heard of them treating the male superstars like that, but never a diva... wow. "Why didn't Heather call me? Tell me?"

"She couldn't reach you, bro. Trust me, every spare moment she had she tried to call you. You were too busy training. But don't worry about it. Later that night, I talked to her. I told her that people don't know what they're talking about, and that she needs to just let it go. Ignore it."

Matt just nodded. He was definitely going to talk to Heather about it. Making a mental note to himself, he took a drink from a bottle of soda and then looked at his brother. "Ready to game it up, bro? Or should I say... ready to get your rear end kicked by your big brother?" he grinned.

Jeff smirked. "Ohhh, it's on now!" he grinned, hitting the power button on the video game console.

Later on that day, around five thirty, Ivy came walking into the hotel room, arms laden down with shopping bags. She backed her way into the door, and nudged it closed with her foot. She heard boistrous laughter and the sounds of the TV and video game remotes coming from the living room behind her, and that could only mean one thing.

"Matt! Good to see you, man! When did you get back?" she asked, hopping into the recliner chair next to the couch after setting all of her bags on the kitchen counter and giving her boyfriend's brother a big hug.

"Just this afternoon," Matt laughed, giving a knowing glance at Jeff.

"Does Heather know you're here? She's going to die when she sees you! She's in your room..."

Matt laughed again. Yes, Heather knew, but he was going to let that go unknown. "I bet she will. I guess I'd better go say hey to her," he chuckled, standing up. "You two behave yourselves... don't get into too much trouble," he laughed, waving goodbye as he walked out the door. He walked back down the hall, and let himself into the room he and Heather had. "Hey you," he smiled. "Have fun shopping?"

"Yep!" she said cheerfully, taking all the clothes and stuff she'd purchased out of the bags and examining them one by one. "Did you and Jeff have fun... doing whatever you were doing?"

"Video games. Yeah," he said, sitting down on the foot of the bed and watching her. "Why didn't you tell me about all the stuff that was happening?"

"What stuff?"

"People picking fights. Talkin' trash. Getting doused in food and drink?"

Heather set down the pair of shoes she was holding down, sighed, and closed her eyes. "Matt, you were busy training and I hardly talked to you as it is and I didn't want to bother you with it because it wasn't even a big deal to begin with..."

"Heather, of course it's a big deal! Okay..." he said, sighing, looking gently at her, sorry he had raised his voice. "I'm sorry. I just wish I had known. But Jeff told me about the talk you guys had. And he's right, you know. All that hair dye didn't completely fry his brain. People really are idiots. You know who you are and what you're about, and that's all that matters. He told you that you have to let it roll off your back, and that's exactly what you have to do." Matt stood up and moved so that he was standing in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.

"I know, Matt. I know." She tilted her head up so that her sea green eyes met his chocolatey brown ones - and that simple connection brought a smile to Heather's face.

"I love you, Matt," she said, unable to get the smile off her face.

"I love you too, Heather," Matt said softly, smiling as he pulled her into a big bear hug.


End file.
